Dream Catcher
by Charlie Chaplin 2
Summary: 2006 ficathon entry. MakoNeph, Neph is an Indian Brave...need I say more? Short oneshot, enjoy!


Right, this little baby was written for the 2006 shitennou ficathon, organised by the lovely Wyse!! Check out forum for more info on it. It's a Mako/Neph which means it was damn hard for me to write, I almost missed the deadline for it. Well, tell me what you think, as usual, I don't own Sailor Moon and this fic isn't for profit. Enjoy, comments will be mucho appreciated,

Luv CC2 xx

* * *

**Dream Catcher**

"What did your grandfather need?"

Howling Star looked away quickly, diverting his eyes from her speckled green and brown ones. He sat down by the small, blazing logs and took off his shoes. The smoke curled gently around the pot suspended above it, wafting out of the top of the tent and drifting away into the night. Whatever was cooking smelt good, and he was hungry from sitting for several hours with the council, "Is there any food left on the fire or has your cousin eaten it all?" he teased, avoiding her question for the moment. She picked up the moccasin he had dropped and threw it at him in response. She would have hit her mark had he not expected the attack and caught the shoe before it reached his forehead, "It's a compliment to your cooking!" He said in mock surprise as he tossed the shoe to the other side of their tepee.

Her plush lips parted in a wide smile, unable to hide any longer behind the frown that she had first worn. "One day she will hear you, and beat you as punishment," she said as she carefully unbraided her hair, "and I will do nothing to stop her."

She moved closer to the fire, and he discreetly placed his second shoe out of her reach, "When that day comes, I will remind her that she will risk leaving her cousin without a husband. That woman has enough strength in her to bring down a buffalo with her bare hands."

"So you say, every time," she said, handing him his bowl of stew with less gentile that he would have liked. He had upset her; normally his teasing would bring a roll of the eyes or at least a playful smack. Something was bothering her and he had a feeling he knew what it was…She walked away from him, heading for the table to put down her hair ties. Howling Star's eyes glinted mischievously from his place on the mat. He watched as her long legs moved, her delicate bare feet stepping one in front of the other, grateful for the skins and mats that separated her from the cold winter soil. He put the bowl down and with the reflexes of his hunter training, swiped his legs under hers. Sincerity of Wood fell back with a loud cry, her flying hands knocking over the small table, everything fell with a crash. He caught her just before she hit the ground.

When the hard fall she was expecting was cushioned, she opened her eyes. Howling Star was still sitting on the floor, looking down at her. He was clearly supporting her entire weight without showing any evidence of difficulty. And he was grinning, but she was too shocked to be angry at his smugness. He laid her gently on the ground, taking advantage of her astonishment, her cheeks were slightly flushed from the fall, her earth coloured hair, loose from their braids were slightly curled and framed her face, "I wouldn't have a wife I could not protect," he whispered, "and even though she frightens me with her large muscles, I would still try and save your buffalo sized cousin if she needed help." From the displeased quirk in her lips, he could tell that she had recovered from the fall, "and that makes me feel better about being tripped?" she asked, lifting a fine, dark eyebrow. The lights and shadows of the fire seemed to dance across her face, gold, red and orange; she seemed so part of the natural world that he wondered for a moment if she wasn't a spirit. He kissed her lightly, unable to resist the urge.

He had not misinterpreted her annoyance, she was insecure with her femininity and with his ability to handle her brash family, they were after all, a warrior-based tribe, and it had taken some time before the different clans had gotten used to each other, "I have always felt safe with you," she said as he broke away, "I wouldn't love you if I didn't, but that does not mean I need to have my head almost split in two..."

His eyes lost their sparkle for a moment and the angles of his face became a little too hard, as if he struggled with something deep within himself, a familiar vision flashed through his mind, those vibrant green eyes of hers, hauntingly still, surrounded by the darkness and heady scent of dirt… it disappeared within the same moment it arrived, but the fear it instilled in his heart stayed with him. Sincerity of Wood lifted her arm, cupping his cheek in concern for the sudden change in his humour; her long soft fingers seemed to relax him, he closed his eyes and lowered his forehead to touch hers, the wind flapped the entrance of their tepee slightly, feeding the hissing fire, "While I live, I swear I will keep you from harm," he whispered, barely audible.

"And who will promise me to keep you safe when you are away?"

He opened his eyes and said nothing, not surprised that she had guessed the meaning of his grandfather's gathering, he picked up his bowl of stew and started eating.

* * *

The rain came down heavily now, by stepping out into the clearing he had forsaken the shelter of the dark fir trees; the drops fell hard, like an endless waterfall pelting the grass, the blades once springy in the summer sun seemed to be weighed down with nature's sorrow. The rain limited his view, but it could not obscure the scene that lay before him. Howling Star gazed up, no longer able to look ahead; the force of the falling water blinded him and he closed his brown eyes, the rain mapped out the lines of his eyelids, sliding along his cheekbone and tracing the smoothness of his tanned skin. It gathered in size as it met more and more raindrops before finally slipping off his face in a constant drip.

The rain was cold and it stung him like a blade, his thick chestnut hair hung limply around his broad shoulders, soaked to the colour of dark coffee, the two feathers which adorned his head hid themselves in the thick masses, hiding in shame at what their wearer had not been able to prevent. The grey sky was relentless in its torrent but he took little comfort from the Great Spirit's empathy. His heart quivered in his chest and all the courage of the fearless Indian Braves left him as he realised that he needed to continue moving through the village, he need to see what had been done with his own eyes.

Howling Star had arrived too late, he now walked in nothing but soaked ruins of what was once his home. There were no fires lit to welcome home the hunters from their trip, the sound of children running and shouting did not fill the air and the sky thundered above him as he took in the ruined stalks of corn. The great poles had been desecrated, lying on the floor in pieces, the faces of the Gods seemingly decapitated and marred in battle with dark scars. No tent was left standing; all had been knocked down or destroyed by fire. The rain coated the ruins of his village, as if trying to soothe the burns, but it was of no help now, the damage was beyond repair, the loss to great to reclaim. Howling Star walked on in awe, a horrible sense of familiarity would not allow him to feel anything but a nervous anticipation, he had seen all this before; there would be a dead horse in the pen, it would be Roaming Eagle's. His eyes turned to the left, where the fences had once kept the animals safe. He gripped his small hand axe tighter, in a vain attempt to comfort himself as he neared the pen. _Am I in another vision? _His answer came as he slipped in the mud, his strong chin catching the ground directly and cutting his tongue. From where he lay he was able to see what the sparse fencing of the pen and the brambles hid. A long mouth was pulled back in anguish and large teeth protruded from the animal, its skin and hair were a drained brown and the eye had become a strangely dark, sunken orb. The rain vainly tried to hide the horse, but the water only washed over the lifeless creature, cleaning it, rinsing away the dirt and blood. Steam was rising from the carcass, a sign that the spirit had not yet left the body, it had not died long ago.

His chest heaved and through the soaked buckskin shirt that he wore he could feel the mud, he could feel it and taste it in his mouth. His entire body shuddered, from his great arms to his powerful calves; his very breath shook and he was incapable of stopping it. What if the rest of his nightmares were true? If they were, then he knew why the village was silent except for the pitter-patter of the rain, he knew where all his people were, and he knew where she was laying, cold and silent under the upturned earth in the field behind their encampment, where the grass had once been as green as her eyes. He stood up quickly – he had to find her- only to slip again in the slush of dark mud, cutting his tongue once more and losing the grip on his axe. He used the wooden fence as support and raised himself up again, grimacing through the pain in his mouth.

He fell again a third time to a resounding clap in the air, harsher than the thunder and much less godly. He cried out at the biting pain in his back, sinking to his knees. He heard faint voices shouting in a strange language, but the world seemed to grow darker around him, a sharp and burning pain seeping through his flesh, and the last thing he saw was the ghost of her face, smiling in sorrow.

Howling Star woke with a jolt, clutching his hand axe in reflex. Sweat seemed to pour off his body and his heart raced. At first he was confused with his surroundings, he was lying in an open field, a small shelter of buffalo hide covered the sky. He clutched at his shirt, no, it was not the one he had been wearing and it was not raining... Movement on his right caught his eye and he was immediately comforted: the fog of the nightmare lifted as he recognised the figure next to him, sleeping soundly under a blanket of fur. He was returning home with three others, to their good fortune, their mission had not been eventful, but it had been necessary.

It seemed his grandfather was right, there had been problems with some of the other tribes and there was a possibility of a threat. But even though it was unlikely and still a long way away, what he had learned on his trip, coupled with a repeat of his dream made the Howling Star's journey home rather grim, a nauseous feeling settled at the pit of his stomach. Only one thing kept him from worrying, he clutched at his light shirt, this one was different from the one of his nightmarish vision, it was thinner and on it were symbols, Sincerity of Wood had painted them on herself the morning he had left, the red paw marks of the bear were visible on his chest, a sign of protection, and symbol of her own people, "Just in case," she had said. He smiled, he would be home soon. With that thought the he felt uneasiness dissipate, but he knew it would not be gone for long; trouble was brewing, but at least they had time, and for now, he was going home.

* * *

"Sincerity of Wood, I'm going up to get another basket, I'll be back in a moment."

But she didn't notice, Smiling Cloud simply shook her head as she walked away; her tall friend had been absent minded all day - like she had been for the passed few weeks - so it was nothing new. She walked through the crop with her full basket and climbed up the slight hill where she had stacked what had already had been picked. As she turned to descend back into the cornfield she noticed a shadow looming through the long stalks heading towards Sincerity of Wood, at first she thought it was a wild animal and she almost cried out in fear, but the pawing of a horse nearby caught her attention, she recognised the riderless animal and rolled her eyes. A second later she heard a screech from the field, corn flew up into the air followed by the sound of a slap, and laughing. Smiling Cloud, dumped her basket on the floor, sighing, a day of harvesting effectively cut short, there was no way she was going back into that cornfield…

At least for now, he was home.

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For those of you confused, Howling Star and Sincerity of Wood are Native Americans. Howling Star's grandfather is one of the leaders and sent his grandson on a reconnaissance mission, and on his way home, Howling Star dreams a miserable vision.

I kept the particularities of the tribes vague on purpose, there were so many, but it was difficult to choose one that suited all my needs, so basically, Mako's tribe is a mix of two, one that allowed women to play important roles, i.e. hunting, sitting in the council etc (they really existed!) and a warrior tribe. Nephy's is much more traditional; the two tribes settled down together to share land.

I also realise that the fact that they are not nomadic and that they have horses means that they've already come into contact with the Europeans, but I figured those facts can be seen as a hint of what is the threat Nephy is worrying about…

Well, feedback would be fantastic! Good, bad, I really don't mind…

Thanks xx


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